


You Gotta Eat

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [34]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, M/M, Sorta kinda, basically everyone calls race out on his bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Race hasn't been eating lately and a couple people have noticed





	You Gotta Eat

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to all yall that harassed me to give this boy some food

“Up and at ‘em! Sun’s not waitin’ for no one today!”

Jack’s chipper voice was the last thing Race was in the mood to hear at six o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday, but here he was. And Jack wasn’t quitting it.

A hand shook Race’s shoulder roughly and he groaned, pulling his pillow over his head and kicking weakly.

“C’mon, you gotta get up, Racer,” Jack said, voice almost in a sing song. Davey had stayed over last night, and now they all had to deal with the over-happy version of Jack. 

Already feeling his head pounding, Race pushed himself up before Jack had the chance to rip the sheets off of him. “That Davey’s makin’ ya worse by the day.”

Jack rolled his eyes as he reached out a hand to pull Race up. “And Spot’s been draggin’ ya down for years.”

Race almost smiled at that, just almost. Just as Jack had pulled him up he remembered the main reason he hadn’t wanted to start the day off. It’d been a while since he’d last eaten. Two days, no more than three, he guessed. 

But the floor started lurching under his feet, and he stumbled sideways into Jack before he could hide the grimace on his face from the headache. 

Jack caught him though, putting two hands on his shoulders as he got his bearings. Race caught a frown starting to form and turned to leave.

“Sorry ‘bout that-”

A hand caught the back of his collar and pulled him back. “You really don’t look so good, kid.”

Race exhaled slowly before turning to meet Jack’s concerned gaze, it was too early for all this. “I’m fine, just tired s’all.”

“Nah, that ain’t tired,” Jack said, and he looked Race up and down while he did it. “You been eatin’ lately?”

Putting on his best poker face, Race nodded, feigning impatience as he glanced over his shoulder to where the rest of the boys were getting ready. “‘Course I have Jackie, c’mon, I gotta get goin’.”

It must have been too early for Jack too, as he gave Race one more long look before dropping the grip on his collar. Relieved, Race started quickly toward the bathroom, squinting his eyes against the ache in his head. 

Jack’s voice sounded from behind him after a few steps. 

“I got my eye on you today.”

* * *

 

He did, and Race was about ready to slug the guy one after an hour of having Jack glued to his side. Kid didn’t know when to quit. 

Slinging an arm over Race’s shoulder, Jack pulled the two of them out of the distribution gate. “Beautiful day, ain’t it?”

“Great one to be alone,” Race snapped as he shrugged Jack off. “I gotta be gettin’ to the bridge.”

When he moved off to head down his own street though, Jack pulled him back, and pushed him so that they were walking the same way. “Nah, you’se sellin’ with me today.”

Race scoffed and stopped in front of Jack. “I don’t need a babysitter, Jackie.”

“You sure?” Jack asked, head tilted as he looked Race over again. “It doesn’t look like you’re doin’ awful well by yourself.”

To be fair, Race felt like shit. He’d tossed his roll from the nuns to Romeo while Jack wasn’t looking, and had been dizzy all day, but he wasn’t a  _ kid _ .

“Don’t look then.”

Shoving past Jack, he turned the corner and started off toward the bridge. He heard Jack following him and kept his eyes forward resolutely.

“Racer.”

Shaking his head, Race picked up the pace, carding his fingers through his papers as he walked.

“I can follow you all the way ‘cross the bridge.”

Race barked out a laugh at that, and Jack caught up, walking briskly at his left shoulder. “Yeah, y’know what, been a while since I’ve seen good ole Spot.”

When Race snorted, still attempting the silent treatment, Jack bumped his shoulder. “Bet it ain’t been too long for you, huh?”

A yelp sounded out across the street.

* * *

 

“Crowds scatter as fire ravages apartment building!”

The guy, Randy, handed Race his daily penny and laughed a little, looking over his shoulder at Jack as he tried his luck at Sheepshead’s crowd. 

“Brought a new one over with ya?”

Race sighed, handing over the headline and pocketing the penny. “That’s one way of puttin’ it.”

Somehow Jack managed to get a couple sales off of that one, and as Randy walked toward the tracks Jack headed over.

“Damn, don’t know why you complain so much ‘bout sellin’ here, place is a goldmine,” he chirped as he flicked a penny over to Race, who caught it. “Let’s get goin’.”

Flicking the coin back, he still wasn’t accepting the babysitting thing, Race frowned. “Where? It’s just past noon.”

Ignoring the question, Jack started for the gates they’d come through this morning, actually getting another sale on the way there. Race hated him. But, he trailed after him all the same, stalling for as long as he could when he passed a few regulars on the way. At this rate, the two of them could be heading back before sundown. 

Once they got outside the gates, Jack slowed so that Race was walking alongside him. If he noticed how antsy he’d gotten all the sudden, he didn’t say anything. 

See, Race  _ really  _ wasn’t supposed to be selling outside the track, it was one of the only rules he had to follow while in Brooklyn. Honestly, he wasn’t supposed to go anywhere that  _ wasn’t  _ the track or Brooklyn lodging, and that was pretty much by invite only. 

Jack didn’t seem to care about either of those rules though, even though he’d been there when they’d been set, and was walking along like he knew exactly where he was going. 

“Why’re ya lookin’ around like that?” Jack asked after a moment, giving Race a sidelong glance.

Call it paranoia, call it hunger-based paranoia even, but Race had been getting shakier the longer they walked. He trusted Jack to a degree, but he wasn’t in any shape to get into any sort of scrap if someone saw him walking around with papes. 

“Not supposed to be sellin’ outside the track.”

Jack shrugged at that, making a quick grab for Race’s remaining papes and tossing them to the side into an alley. Race gaped.

“You in the business of throwin’ away money now?”

“You had two papes left, and I know ya got a nickel right when he got here, neither of us goin’ broke over ‘em.”

He had a point, but Race huffed a bit anyway, letting his steps slow so that Jack was a bit ahead of him. It was too hard keeping up with him today, and he had a sneaking suspicion Jack knew that from the way he paused at the next corner, waiting for him to catch up. 

“Where are we even goin’?” Race asked after another block or so. They were near lodging but had moved off the beaten path deeper into the city.

Jack yawned and slung an arm over Race’s shoulder, he had habit of doing that. “I got a meetin’ with someone ‘bout a block down.”

Surprised, Race turned to look at him, eyebrows shooting up. “A meetin’? Who do ya know in Brooklyn that you gotta take a meetin’ with.”

Just as Jack opened his mouth to answer, they rounded the next corner and Race came to a dead stop.

“Oh come  _ on _ .”

Spot was leaning in the doorway of a grocery store, tossing an apple up in the air and catching it a few times while he waited for the two of them. This was some weird set up, Race could’ve called it. 

Jack tugged him forward though, the grip on his wrist was strong, and he nearly tripped over his own feet on the way. 

“Hiya Spotty,” Jack said. He let go of Race’s wrist but kept one eye on his as he sulked at his side. “You been waitin’ long?”

Spot shook his head and looked over at Race. “Didn’t tell him you were meetin’ me, did ya?”

“No, he didn’t,” Race snapped before Jack could get the chance. “He don’t tell me anythin’, actually-”

Jack shushed him and Race felt so damn close to taking a shot at him then. 

“Me and Spot here made an arrangement this morning-”

“When did you see Spot?” Race asked, eyes flicking between the two of them. They’d been together at the track morning. 

“This mornin’,” Jack said. “While you were sellin’ at the collectin’ booth Spot stopped by.”

Race leaned against the wall Spot was on and let his head fall back, closing his eyes. He was too tired to deal with whatever weird plan Jack had come up with, and with Spot too. He made a mental note to get together with Davey and mess with Jack sometime, show him how it felt. 

Spot cleared his throat and Race looked down, almost softening when he saw his face. It looked like he was a mixture of annoyed with Jack and concerned with Race.

“You can’t be passin’ out ‘cause you ain’t eatin’ enough,” Spot said simply. “It ain’t right, and you’se just gonna get sick once winter comes around.”

“And we got more than enough to go around,” Jack argued, faltering a bit when Race rolled his eyes. “Okay well, we got  _ enough _ . Nobody can be skippin’ meals.”

“You don’t even know if I’ve been skippin’ meals,” Race shot back. “You’se just throwin’ stuff around-”

Spot moved to get between them when Jack took a step forward, probably for the best, and put a hand back to push Jack back. “Hey, don’t get all upset, we both know you give most of your meals to the littles, can’t lie outta that one.”

Race balled his fists, trying to look over Spot’s shoulder at Jack when he moved to cut off his eye line. 

“Hey, c’mon, back off, both of you.” 

They did, and Race relaxed against the wall as Jack took a few paces back. 

Spot let out a sigh before continuing. “Anyway, instead of Kelly havin’ to follow ya around all day to make sure you’se eatin’, I got somethin’ figured out.”

He jerked his head to the grocery store entrance. They had a few baskets of fruit out in the front, presumably where Spot had gotten his, still uneaten, apple. 

“At one everyday you can come here and grab somethin’ to eat, no charge.”

Race’s eyebrows shot out, and he let out a low whistle despite himself. “Seems like a steep deal, Spot.”

Spot waved him off though. “Don’t worry ‘bout that, guy who owns the place owes me a couple dozen favors.”

Guilt had started to worm its way into Race’s chest though, and of instinct he started to protest.

“Already done and taken care of,” Jack piped up from behind Spot. “It’s a damn good deal, too. Bunch of boys would kill to have it right about now.”

He was right, and he looked at Spot for a few seconds before saying else. He looked tired, and a mixture of other things that Race couldn’t quite figure out, but there was a ‘please’ somewhere in his eyes. 

Race nodded. “Okay.”

Jack broke into a grin and Spot nodded, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good, and if ya don’t make it, I’ll know.”

“Me too!”

Spot shot Jack a glare over his shoulder, shutting him up for once. “Now that that’s settled, you done sellin’?”

Race nodded, still a little bitter about Jack tossing his last two papes. “Yeah.”

“Okay good, you can come back to lodging with me then,” Spot said. There was the hint of a smile on his face and Race returned it, brighter. 

“Aw, you two are awful cute.”

Spot whipped around and Jack barely dodged a slap to the head. Race laughed as he took a few steps back with his hands in the air.

“Jesus, can’t a guy make a joke now and then?” 

“Maybe if you was funnier,” Race snarked, taking a step forward to shove lightly at Jack’s chest. “Besides, I can be funny if ya want, y’know, when Davey decides to spend the night next time-”

“Alright, fine,” Jack said quickly, and Race caught the hint of a blush at the base of his collar. “I know where I’m not wanted.”

He and Spot nodded at each other, and he gave one more halfhearted shove at Race’s shoulder, tossing a ‘goodbye’ over his shoulder as he left, which Race returned. 

Watching until Jack turned the corner, Race looked back at Spot, just barely catching an apple Spot had thrown at him. 

“Day one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Race said, biting into fruit. He heard Spot laugh at the look on his face, but damn the thing tasted  _ good _ .

There was a shove at his shoulder and he started off with Spot back toward Brooklyn lodging.

“Not hungry my ass.”

Race took a light swing at him, getting met with a sharp kick to the knee, and a yelp sounded across the street. Neither of them cared if anyone heard it. 

**Author's Note:**

> HOPE YALL ARE SATISFIED W THIS BAD BOY!!!! HES GOT GUARANTEED FOOD NOW!!!
> 
> also blease leave kudos/comments if u enjoyed bc im dead af


End file.
